


Consider it a promise

by BlueBoxDetective



Series: A feeling Angel and an angelic Human [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBoxDetective/pseuds/BlueBoxDetective
Summary: “Have you lost your appetite, Dean?”“I would never,” the hunter replies as he takes another bite from his burger, without breaking eye contact. It is small enough that he can speak around the food in his mouth. “Maybe I just laid eyes on something else I’m hungry for.”Cas’ voice is a low growl: “Maybe you should be careful not to bite off more than you can chew.”___Just smut here, nothing else to see.





	Consider it a promise

**Author's Note:**

> There is no plot development in this part of the story, I'm sorry. But I had this idea and wanted to toy a bit with the dynamic between Dean and Cas anyway, so I hope you still enjoy it!

Dean’s foot nudges against Cas’ calf. As far as Dean can tell from the look on Cas’ face, the angel isn’t fazed by it, but the hunter feels like Cas’ stare is intensifying.  
“How is your burger?” The angel asks nonchalantly. His eyes stay focused on Dean’s.  
“Mmmh,” Dean moans just slightly too enthusiastic, but not loud enough to draw any unwanted attention. His mouth still full he adds: “Awesome. Y’ should try ‘t.” Without waiting for the inevitable “I don’t need to eat, Dean,” the hunter shoves the burger in Cas’ face. The angel eyes him for a second longer before he lowers his head and accepts a bite from Dean’s dinner.  
After a few moments of chewing Cas shrugs his shoulders. “It is decent.”  
Dean rolls his eyes at Cas’ words. Then he pushes himself from his seat and leans over the plastic table between them.  
“You have some ketchup there. I’ll get it.” He stares at Cas as he leans closer. The angel’s pupils dilate, but he doesn’t move. Dean takes his time licking over Cas’ lower lip, humming low in his throat. There is no ketchup on Cas’ face, and they both know it.  
The silence between them is heavy with tension as Dean sinks back to his side of the table. There might be one or two curious pairs of eyes on them now, but they don’t care anymore. The angel leans forward and folds his hands on the table.  
“Have you lost your appetite, Dean?”  
“I would never,” the hunter replies as he takes another bite from his burger, without breaking eye contact. It is small enough that he can speak around the food in his mouth. “Maybe I just laid eyes on something else I’m hungry for.”  
Cas’ voice is a low growl: “Maybe you should be careful not to bite off more than you can chew.”  
As much as Dean wants to pretend he isn’t affected, he can’t resist leaning closer and resting his elbows on the table. A fire is slowly burning in his belly, ignited by the little exchange of theirs.  
“Is that a warning?” He hushes with a beat of his eyelashes. Dean likes challenging Cas. Provoking him. He was always one to rebel against any sign of authority, and he knows Cas can take him. His foot wanders up Cas’ leg until it rubs against the inside of the angel’s thigh. Dean doesn’t go any further, since a) his foot is still stuck in his boot and he doesn’t want to get Cas all dirty, and b) they are a bit too public for him to be comfortable with that. The angel still notices and takes it as the gesture it is. Not that he does anything but raise a single eyebrow at Dean.  
“If you want it to be. Otherwise,” his voice drops even lower and he leans close to the hunter, “consider it a promise.”  
Dean swallows down the gasp that nearly falls from his lips. They are just inches apart now, his burger forgotten between the two of them. Dean can smell Cas’ intriguing scent by being this close to him.  
“It sounds a lot like a threat,” he whispers, digging the sole of his boot a little firmer in the soft flesh of Cas’ leg. With anyone else he would be worried to hurt them, but not with his angel.  
Without blinking Cas responds dryly: “Keep on pushing and you will find out what it is.”  
Dean can’t resist these words. Cas knows that he can’t. And he knows, that Cas knows, that he can’t. Which makes it that much more interesting. Not saying a word, he abandons his plan to not dirty up Cas’ clothes and shoves his foot further up Cas’ leg. Before he can move more than an inch, a hand closes around his ankle like a steel cuff. The angel’s left hand has vanished from the table, not that Dean had been able to see any movement.  
“Pay,” Cas orders, and the tone of his voice doesn’t leave any room for discussion, “and meet me at the car. Don’t make me wait.”  
Without waiting for an answer, Cas elegantly leaves the booth and walks out the door. Dean’s foot falls heavily to the empty bench opposite of him.  
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, digging in his pocket for his wallet. He drops a few bills on the table without really paying attention to what he is doing, already sliding out of the booth himself. He remembers to grab his phone from the table at the last second, and then he storms out of the diner, maybe a little bit too enthusiastic, but he can’t help himself.

His Baby is parked in the back of the parking lot, but when Dean reaches her, Cas is nowhere to be seen. Dean leans down to peek inside of the car, but it is empty. There is no warning before a muscled body is pressing him against the car. A grin spears over Dean’s face when he feels Cas’ half hard cock press against his ass. Theoretically, he knows that Cas is enjoying this as much as he is, but the evidence makes it even better. Slender fingers wrap around his wrists and pin them to the cool metal of the car. Cas nibbles at his bare neck and the hunter moans quietly, leaning his head to the side to give his angel better access.  
“Color?” Cas wants to know, his breath ghosting over Dean’s skin.  
“Green,” the hunter answers quickly and Cas hums his appreciation.  
“Turn around,” Cas instructs and moves back half a step, letting go of Dean’s hands just until Dean has his back to the car. Cas holds his wrists in place on level with his head, and Dean’s breath stutters at the sight of lust in Cas’ eyes. The angel pushes his thigh between the hunter’s legs and rubs it against the hardening erection. Dean moans and drops his head back, his eyes closing at the sensation of the small amount of friction Cas is granting him.  
“Dean,” the angel grumbles, and the hunter knows what’s coming before Cas says it, “keep looking at me.”  
A silent gasp leaves Dean’s mouth as he does as he is told, his eyes finding Cas’ again. The angel leans closer, their faces not far from touching. Dean has no idea how Cas does it, but despite being smaller than the hunter, Cas towers over him, crowding his space in the best way possible.  
“Why do you always have to keep pushing, Dean?” Cas asks with a low growl.  
Dean knows the question is rhetorical, just like he knows that Cas is playing. Right now, all he wants to do is play back.  
“I like to watch your control fade,” he whispers, his hot breath against Cas’ face. Just for good measure he pulls at the hands holding his wrists, not that he expects to achieve anything. Especially since Cas is aware of the fact that Dean doesn’t want to get away.  
“Are you questioning my authority, Dean?” With his words, the light around them changes and the evening sun gets hidden by dark grey clouds. Thunder rumbles in the distance and Dean gasp at the display of power. His dick twitches uncomfortably against the fabric of his clothes. There is no way the angel doesn’t notice how the abuse of his powers affects Dean, but the hunter doesn’t want to let up.  
“Yes, I am.” The breathless voice doesn’t fool either of them, but Cas plays along.  
“I will teach you to respect me, Dean,” he growls and clashes his lips to Dean’s, the kiss wet and dirty. As soon as Dean is able to react, Cas pulls back and mouths at his jaw instead, licking and nibbling at his skin. He pulls both of Dean’s writs over the hunter’s head and holds them with one hand, his other one wandering down Dean’s body. Without hesitation he gropes Dean’s dick through his jeans, pulling a moan from the hunter.  
“Cas,” Dean mutters, interrupted by a yelp when he feels teeth against his neck, “Cas, parking… parking lot. Public.”  
“I don’t care,” growls Cas, and his statement is stressed by a lightning strike in the distance.  
“I do,” Dean is out of breath, even though he is just standing there. The angel doesn’t react to his words, his palm rubbing Dean through his pants.  
“Cas,” the hunter tries again, moaning, “please, I mean it.”  
This time the addressed looks up, staring at Dean, probably considering if the other one is about to call red or yellow. Dean just stares back, taking the moment to catch his breath as best as he can.  
The angel drops his hands, and with them, Dean’s fall to his side. Cas points to the small path leading into a wooded area behind the parking lot.  
“In there,” he orders, “you go first.”  
Dean doesn’t waste a second and trips over himself. He catches his weight on the hood of the impala before he can fall with his face to the ground and hurries into the wood.

Cas had pulled him from the narrow path and deeper into the thicket of trees. When Dean had completely lost his sense of direction Cas had looked at him and asked: “Acceptable?”  
Dean had nodded quickly, hoping to show Cas that he was still down to play along.  
“Good,” Cas had muttered and stepped into his personal space to whisper in his ear: “I want you to brace yourself against that tree.”

Dean glances at Cas, taking an uncertain step towards the tree Cas is pointing at.  
“How-“ he begins, but the angel cuts him off before he is able to finish his question.  
“Figure it out. Be good for once today.”  
Dean swallows and steps closer to the tree trunk. He stands there for another awkward moment, considering if Cas wants him to lean his back against it or the other way around. He reaches out for the bark, running a hand over it, stalling. When blood starts to pool in his cheeks he finally understands what Cas is doing to him. The angel has given him a situation without an obvious solution and is watching Dean struggle, trying to behave. Dean runs a hand through his hair. He can play along with that. He can be good for Cas. He can make him lose his mind.  
The hunter takes a small step back and leans forward, resting his forearms against the rough surface of the tree. He places his feet further apart, a silent invitation. Then he drops his head and whispers a prayer: ‘I am ready for you.’  
Dean can hear Cas gasp behind him, and he doesn’t have to wait for long until Cas’ fingers dig into his hips.  
“Just like that, Dean,” Cas praises him in a low voice and it strokes Dean’s ego more than he would ever admit. An undignified noise escapes Dean’s mouth as the angel’s groin presses against his ass, Cas’ erection clearly noticeable. Cas rubs his clothed dick against Dean’s butt once, a pointed movement that makes both of them moan quietly. The fingers of Cas’ right hand slowly ease their bruising grip on Dean’s hip and the angel slips them below the hunter’s shirt, long fingers running along the muscles. The fingers make their way to Dean’s chest, and when they find his nipple and roll it, Dean instinctively ruts back against Cas. The moment he moves, he already knows how Cas will react, and he can see the upward curl of Cas’ brow in front of his inner eye as the angel speaks, his hands still.  
“Are you already admitting defeat? I thought you wanted to show me how you make *me* lose control, but right now I would say I have the upper hand. Don’t you think?” Cas thrusts his hips against Dean’s ass once more, and Dean has to bite his lip to hold back the moan in his throat. He is aware that this is Cas asking how they will play, if he wants to surrender or put up a fight, let Cas follow through with his plan or challenge him. Dean is more than aroused already, so he would be absolutely on board with just taking it easy from here on out. But on the other hand, Cas is offering him the chance to act up, nearly asking him to talk back. Oh, and Dean wants to hear him growl again, that low, vibrating sound right from his throat. There is only one answer he can think off. He turns his head and grins wide as he sends his prayer:  
‘You might have less control than you think you have.’ With that, he pushes back again, rubbing his ass against the bulge in Cas’ pants and basks in the muffled moan it pulls from Cas.  
Thunder rolls in the distance as Cas shoots him a dark look, his left hand digging hard in Dean’s skin so that the hunter can’t move his hips. One side of Cas’ lip curls upwards, and it gives him a sly expression Dean rarely sees on him, but yeah, it makes the hunter’s dick twitch in his jeans painfully. The angel tugs on Dean’s nipple before he pulls his hand away and reaches for Dean’s hair, tugging at it and guiding him close to Cas’ chest.  
“Dean Winchester,” he rumbles, and there is the snarl Dean was hoping for, “one day, your mouth will get yourself into big trouble.” The hunter’s voice is embarrassingly breathless when he questions:  
“Am I not already?”  
“Oh you are,” Cas agrees playfully, “I just haven’t decided yet how much you are in trouble.” The angel leans closer, his chest flushed against Dean’s back and his lips close to the hunter’s ear: “What do you think?”  
Dean bites his lip, but can’t hold the words back: “I think you should show me what such actions can get me.” Yes, his face is bright red, but firstly, Cas can’t see that, and secondly, he is too far gone already. He aches for something to rub his dick against, just some friction, some relief. But Cas’ grip on his hips is resolute, even though he tries to wiggle out. Dean has had his chance to keep a small amount of control, and he threw it out the window. Willingly, absolutely willingly, he has to admit, as he gasps without a sound.  
The angel squeezes Dean’s hip and tugs at the hair tangled in his fingers, coaxing a moan from the other man. Dean drops his head to Cas’ shoulder, and for a moment the angel nips at his exposed neck. He barely lifts his lips from Dean’s skin as he speaks:  
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Me showing off my powers, as if you hadn’t been impertinent all evening. Tell me, Dean.”  
The hunter’s breath hitches, and for a second the fire in his stomach is too intense for him to form any sort of coherent thought. His dick is hurting in his jeans, confined by the material.  
“Yes,” he whispers, and adds after the questioning noise from Cas: “I like it when you show your powers. ‘s so damn hot.”  
“Hm,” Cas noses at his throat before he pulls back.  
“Like this?” He asks, and a lightning strikes close enough that Dean jumps, held back by the angel’s hands. The quiet yelp is answer enough for Cas.  
“Or this?” He adds, tightening his grip in Dean’s hair and soft flesh.  
“Yeah,” Dean responds, his voice high and shaky. Cas leans close again, lips right against Dean’s ear as he mumbles:  
“Or this?” Another lightning strikes and illuminates the widespread, black wings unfurling to both Cas’ sides. They curl around their bodies and Dean groans when they press against all the right spots, feathers tickling the soft skin of his throat, rubbing against his legs and pressing against his groin. His legs decide to cease working and he more or less collapses against the angel, trusting him to hold both their weight.  
“Yes,” Cas observes, and only Dean is able to pick up on the fondness underneath the cool statement, “It would seem that you respond quite well to it.”  
“Cas…” Dean moans, trying to push his hips up against the wing, back against Cas’ groin, move at all. The angel’s grip isn’t loosening.  
“Yes, Dean? What do you want?”  
“Please…” The hunter adds incoherently, the word ending in another moan.  
“Use your words,” Cas instructs, and Dean tries to take a deep breath. His mind is foggy, clouded by lust and arousal, and he struggles to form any thoughts.  
“Touch me, Cas,” he finally comes up with, and almost whining he adds, “please…”  
Cas licks the base of his neck: “Be more specific. I am touching you.” To stress his words, he presses his fingers into the flesh of his hips again, and yes, Dean will be bruised tomorrow. He loves the thought of it. He groans at Cas’ demand, though, squirming under his hands.  
“Cas… I… please…” The angel doesn’t even react to him anymore. He has an amount of self-control that Dean will never be able to understand. “I need you… Touch my dick, *please*, Cas.”  
“Now, was that so hard?” Cas teases as the hand from Dean’s hip moves straight to unzip Dean’s fly. Dean sighs as the angel pulls his leaking dick from his clothes, and the sensation of feathers against his sensible skin distracts him from the cold air around him. Cas runs his thumb over the smear of precum and rubs it along Dean’s shaft before he circles his fingers around Dean. He starts a slow pace and strokes Dean’s dick, unfurling a firestorm in Dean’s guts. The hunter moans and falls back against Cas, hips twitching lazily into Cas’ hand, since they are no longer confined by Cas’ grip.  
His mind takes two whole seconds to process the moment Cas’ hand suddenly disappears, and with it all the promise of relive and pleasure. Dean whines – yes, whines, because apparently, he isn’t able to growl at Cas – at the loss and tries to look at Cas, but the hand in his hair forbids him.  
“Now,” Dean can hear the sly smile in Cas’ voice without being able to see him, “the most important question.”  
“Yes?” Dean breathes when Cas doesn’t continue, quite certain that the angel will keep him in suspense until he has answered his question.  
“Dean,” Cas growls into the hunter’s ear, and the addressed shivers, “Who is in control?”  
The question goes straight to Dean’s dick, and the hunter gives in for the day. “You are,” Dean sighs, hurrying his answer, “you are in control, Cas.”  
“Very good,” Cas answers, but instead of getting back to where they’d left off, the angel suddenly steps away from Dean, removing all contact between them.  
“Wings out,” he orders, “and closer to the tree.”  
Without hesitation Dean tugs his pullover and shirt over his head in one go and takes a small step towards the tree trunk. Then he closes his eyes, concentrating on manifesting his wings in this plane of reality. He had become better at it, glad that he was no longer forced to cut holes into everything he wanted to wear, but he isn’t exactly thinking with his upstairs brain right now. He huffs when he finally feels the weight of the carefully folded wings on his back, not that he hadn’t felt them before, but are were more… present now. Without being instructed he rests his arms against the tree again, and soon enough Cas presses his body back against his.  
“Well done,” Cas praises, and Dean knows the angel is as much addressing him bringing his wings out as he is addressing his good behavior.  
Dean lets his head fall against his arms as Cas’ hot fingers close around his dick again, and he is thankful that the angel doesn’t keep him waiting this time. Cas pumps him with slow, but purposeful strokes, the other hand tangling into some of his feathers, coaxing a gasp out of him. Dean ruts back against Cas’ erection, and this time the angel doesn’t stop him, but instead groans at the contact. After a couple of seconds Cas thrusts with him, meeting his movements and adding to the friction. He quickens his pace and runs his thumb over Dean’s slit, pulling a moan from Dean that is barely human.  
Dean can feel how quick he is rushing towards the edge, and he doesn’t even try to hold out. He doesn’t have to with Cas, he knows that much. He shifts slightly to the left, and like that Cas’s straining dick now presses between his ass cheeks with every thrust. Dean curls his fingers into the rough tree bark, searching for something to hold onto as their movements get sloppier, both of them losing control in the best way. Cas trails down his long feathers and gently tugs, making Dean’s legs buckle underneath him.  
“Cas,” Dean whispers, and again, “Cas…”  
“Yes Dean,” the angel responds, his voice trembling, “let go, I’ve got you.” Cas purposefully adds a twist of his wrist and his second hand works its way across his bare chest, toying with his nipple again. A wet, hot tongue licks against Dean’s back before a dark bruise is sucked into his skin. Dean thrusts into Cas’ hand, chasing his release.  
He breaks off a piece of the bark as he comes and arches his back, white spurs of cum pulsing from his dick. His legs shake, and if it wasn’t for Cas’ hand against his chest, he doubts he would still be standing upright. The angel works him through his orgasm, pulling the last pulses of cum from his dick as Dean slowly sinks back against the tree, gasping for air. Cas strokes his softening dick with fluttering touches, trying not to overstimulate the hunter. His other hand is back in Dean’s feathers, and Dean concentrates on the touches there while catching his breath.  
Cas gives him his time, patiently rubbing his back until the shaking ceases. He places small kisses all along Dean’s shoulders, and the hunter suspects he’s kissing the freckles there. Cas is weirdly obsessed with them, but Dean doesn’t object to it.  
“Color?” Cas finally whispers against his skin, and Dean replies with a confident “Green.” He feels Cas’ lips turn into a smile at his back.  
“Ready again?” The angel questions, and Dean nods quickly. Cas is gone immediately, and Dean hears the shuffling of material.  
“Kneel,” the angel instructs, and Dean turns to find Cas’ overcoat on the ground. Dean drops down, a little bit too enthusiastically for his knees, but hell yes, now he has Cas’ groin right in front of him. He doesn’t waste any time, unzipping Cas’ fly and pulling his pants and underwear low enough to free the angel’s swollen dick. Drops of precum shine at the tip and Dean sticks out his tongue, lapping them up and swallowing with a quick look into Cas’ eyes. The black of his pupils has swallowed nearly all the blue out of the angel’s eyes, and the remainder looks dark because of the clouds hanging in front of the sun. Dean bathes in the image for a second before he blinks and moves in to lick the underside of Cas’ dick, from the shaft to the tip, running his fingers along the top at the same time. Cas hums and tangles his hand in Dean’s wings again.  
The hunter swirls his tongue around the tip, savoring the bitter drops of liquid, licking the sensible slit and mouthing at the head of Cas’ dick. When he feels Cas shift his weight and getting impatient, Dean takes a deep breath and takes Cas in, moving down his length and up again, wetting Cas’ dick before he bobs his head again, slick noises audible between the thunder. The angel moans and his grip in the wings tightens, and as much as Dean wants to draw this out, as much does he want to give Cas exactly what he craves; so he grips the base of Cas’ cock and takes him down again, pressing his tongue to the underside of the angel’s dick and moving up. A few bobs later he hollows his cheek, and Cas’ reaction is immediate as his hand snaps to Dean’s head, curling into the short hair. He doesn’t tug or pull, but the grip is tight enough that Dean suspects he’s fighting it. And somewhere in his mind a quiet voice whispers “Do it, come on.”  
Dean sucks again, taking Cas down as far as he can, as far as he can right now, anyway. He comes up with a wet noise and this time he can feel it, feel the resistance in Cas’ grip, even though the angel doesn’t hold him. Dean moves his free hand from Cas’ waist and places it over the one in his hair, urging Cas to hold him tighter. The angel moans, but doesn’t react otherwise, so Dean bobs down again and pushes against Cas’ hand. Cas doesn’t do anything, so Dean leans back on his heels and lets the spit-slick dick spring from his mouth. Through his eyelashes he looks up at Cas as he encourages:  
“Do it. Guide me.” He squeezes the hand in his hair again. “Take me.”  
The angel stares down at him in awe for a second, before he slowly shakes his head.  
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbles out of breath, cheeks red.  
“You won’t,” Dean states, convinced. Cas doesn’t look like he is, even though lust seems to be fighting with his voice of reason.  
“Tell you what,” Dean prompts and moves his hand from his head to Cas’ waist, “I’ll keep my hand on your hip. If I need you to stop for any reason at all, I’ll tap you three times. Like this,” he demonstrates by gently patting Cas’ side. He leans back in close and licks playfully at Cas’ dick.  
“So you’ll know, as long as my hand is at your side,” he places a few kisses, “I’m all green. What’ ya think, Cas?”  
Dean can see Cas’ Adams apple bob as he swallows.  
“I… This…” Cas seems to be at a loss for words, and a triumphant voice in the back of Dean’s head says something about control. Not that there had been any question for either of them that Dean held his own power.  
Dean can see the fight in Cas’ eyes, and he takes the angel’s dick back in his mouth. He sucks him in deep, not nearly able to take all of him, but he makes up for it with his second hand wrapped around the base. Cas sucks in a sharp breath.  
The hunter would never say this out loud, at least not yet. But he can do it like this, and he knows it has even deeper meaning for Cas. He puts all his want into the prayer, hoping Cas will feel it.  
‘Please, Cas.’  
The angel makes a sound that is a mixture of a moan and a whine, and it goes straight to Dean’s groin. He is thankful he already came, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to refrain from touching himself.  
“Promise me you will tap out.” Cas asks, his voice strained. Dean lets Cas’ dick plop free with another obscene noise.  
“I will tap out if I need to.” He states sincerely. Dean hears Cas gasp and feels him tighten his grip, and Dean doesn’t waste a second to get Cas’ dick back in his mouth. He bobs and sucks a couple of times before Cas actually takes the lead, but damn, it feels great.  
He has learned some things Cas liked over the time, like how he wants Dean to stay down a second longer or move a bit quicker, but he would never be able to replicate the way Cas guides him now. The angel takes control slowly, firstly pulling Dean in exactly like the hunter had been doing it before, keeping up the same rhythm. Over time he starts to introduce slight changes to the movements, pulls Dean off a little further, holds him down just a second longer. Dean does his best to keep his cheeks hollowed, press his tongue to Cas’ dick, and judging by the sounds the angel makes, he doesn’t do too badly. He strokes the part of Cas’ dick he can’t get into his mouth, working it with the same rhythm Cas is dictating.  
“Dean,” Cas moans and a thunder grumbles close to them. Cas’ hips twitch without a warning, and it does take Dean off guard. He doesn’t have to gag, though, and so he tries to just keep going. The movements are small, not pushing more than he can take, but it does indeed let Dean know that he is not in full control. He grips the hand on Cas’ hip tighter, but doesn’t move it otherwise, because damn, this is way too hot to tap out of.  
On a hunch he drops the hand from the shaft and moves it lower, reaching to fondle Cas’ balls. The angel groans loudly, close to resembling a scream, and his hips stutter in their rhythm. Dean feels Cas’ cock pulse, and he reassures Cas by pressing his fingers to his hip as the angel mutters questioningly: “Dean…”  
Cas tries to guide him off, but doesn’t force him away when Dean instead moves down, down as far as he can, to the point where he fears he has to gag, but he doesn’t have to, and plays with Cas’ balls again.  
The angel’s orgasm comes crashing down over them both, Cas’ hands tensing in his hair and wing as he comes, his cum pulsing down Dean’s throat. The hunter swallows, overwhelmed by the amount of liquid, and Cas cries out, clearly taken by surprise by the sensation, and more cum pools in Dean’s mouth.  
When Dean pulls back and swallows, they are both panting, Cas staring at Dean with glassy eyes.  
“Dean,” he mumbles, and the hunter smiles up at him.  
In a quick motion Cas drops down to his knees, coming to eye-level with the hunter. Their lips find each other within a second, they kiss deep and charged with emotions.  
Dean can’t hold back a giggle when they pull apart.  
“Holy fuck,” he comments, and the face Cas pulls at the words has him break into honest laughter. The angel soon joins him, and for a while they sit on the ground of the woods, laughing in the returned heat of the sun.  
They kiss again, and it is sweet, caring, and Dean suspects Cas wants to show him how much he means to the angel. He doesn’t mind this kind of exchange over feelings.

They stumble back to the impala about half an hour later, their hair tousled and their lips swollen red. Dean feels set back to his teenage years, after sneaking out of the janitors closet with a girl, only way better because this isn’t some girl he is shoving playfully in the side, it is *Cas*. He catches his angel against the side of the car, this time he is boxing in the other man.  
Warmth radiating from his eyes he whispers:  
“I love you, Cas. You know that, right?”  
“I do,” Cas answers with just as much fondness in his expression, “and I love you, too.”  
Smiling, they slip into the impala. Cas sneaks his hand into Dean’s as they drive on the highway back home to the bunker, where Sammy is waiting for them.  
This is it, Dean decides. This is what happiness feels like.


End file.
